


The Lay of Maedhros

by starlightwalking



Series: Lost Lays of the Legendarium [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Back to Middle-Earth Month, Canon Compliant, Fëanorian Week 2019, Gen, Lay Lyrique, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: We band of brothers, happy few,in birth and bloodshed forge anewthe bond of spirits bound in Oathbetraying gods and people both.





	The Lay of Maedhros

**Author's Note:**

> This is the spiritual successor to my first Maedhros lay, [Maedhros Upon the Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786831). Originally, that fic was was named The Lay of Maedhros, but since that title fits better for this fic, I changed it!
> 
> This story is written in lay lyrique, the style of poetry favored by Tolkien himself. If you've read what he wrote of The Lay of Leithian, hopefully this sounds somewhat like that. I'm not really a poet, but I enjoy writing in this style! I hope I do it justice. I may write more lays - they're fun!
> 
> This fic was written for both B2MeM, March 18th, and for Feanorian Week 2019!  
> The B2MeM prompt was "For he today that sheds blood with me, shall be my brother" from the Shakespeare Quotes card. The quote is from Henry V and includes that famous line "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;" and I took a lot of inspiration from that whole monologue!  
> Day 1 of Feanorian Week focuses on Maedhros (yes, I'm late, I know, shhh)! The prompts were Childhood, Kingship, Torture, Adjusting/Coping, Unity, and Beauty. I couldn't pick a favorite so I did all of them! Each prompt has its own section in the poem. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

**i. Childhood**

Nelyafinwë, eldest child  
of Fëanáro, spirit wild,  
and Nerdanel, fair woman wise,  
born under starry Varda's skies.

Nelyo, oldest brother tall  
to Kano, loudest of them all,  
and Moryo, middle, interlaced,  
twixt Tyelko, rising now in haste,  
and Curvo, father's favorite son,  
and Ambarussa, burning ones.

He watches, waits, and wisely warns  
of dangers and potential harms;  
longsuffering, the first grandchild,  
wrangles cousins up and riled.

Fairest Noldo, bearing flame  
upon his head and in his name:  
in greatness Nelyafinwë grows  
'til wind of change upon us blows.

* * *

**ii. Coping**

We band of brothers, happy few,  
in birth and bloodshed forge anew  
the bond of spirits bound in Oath  
betraying gods and people both.

We rest post-slaughter, tired eyes  
watching listlessly, black flies  
feast upon the blood we spilt  
of kin who lay upon us guilt.

We wretched war-fiends, singing woe!  
but Father pushes: on we go  
to seek the east in boats we stole  
whilst coping now with our new role.

Is Nelyo yet the brother wise?  
He who hearkened not the cries  
of those he killed without remorse  
and now finds hard to steer the course.

* * *

**iii. Torture**

Nelyo suffers on the wall,  
he hangs, he hates; he prays to fall  
that mind and body then would sunder  
and free him thus with clap of thunder.

Who now guides the brothers six?  
No, five: since fire lit the sticks  
of swanships on the distant shore  
Telufinwë breathes no more.

Does Kano sing a mournful tune  
that fills the air 'neath new-wrought moon?  
Does Tyelko ride upon his hound,  
leading armies 'hind his bound?  
Does Moryo whisper rumors old  
that sway the hearts of weak and bold?  
Does Curvo wield his father's sword,  
vowing vengeance now threefold?  
And Ambarussa, grieving twin,  
does he rebel 'gainst Father's sin?

Torture of both heart and flesh  
leave a painful, bleeding gash  
that opens Nelyo's chest and soul  
and halts him in his pressing goal.

* * *

**iv. Kingship**

Rescued by the golden child,  
wondrous Fingon, touch so mild;  
healing wounds with gentle hands  
whilst Maedhros thinks on his commands.

He cannot wear his father's crown:  
it lies too heavy 'pon his brow.  
Noldolie need guidance firm  
by Lord with longer livèd term  
in bearing leadership and grace:  
he now recalls Fingolfin's face.

Meekly Maedhros surrenders pow'r  
so briefly held, at the right hour,  
and bearing brothers' scorn he knows  
no other path he could have chose.

* * *

**v. Unity**

In desperate hope Maedhros now calls  
all free-peoples to his halls  
declaring now is time to fight  
against the looming Darkness' might.

We gather arms and rally troops,  
uniting once-distrustful groups  
beneath a common banner high:  
we muster this forsaken try.

Disaster strikes as foes reveal  
true loyalties they did conceal.  
Elf and man and dwarf and orc  
bleed and die like slaughtered pork,  
fed for sake of killing now.  
A broken promise, broken vow.

* * *

**vi. Adjusting**

Morgoth reigns in terror wide  
and fighting rages within the side  
of what remains of Light and Good.  
Fled is what I understood,  
I know not now the truths once held  
as just and true, as right and gold.

Twice and thrice we cut down kin,  
'til two remain of past seven.  
In blood and evil we have fell  
and naught can save us from black hell.

But children's eyes waken remorse  
and thus we stray from trodden course;  
atoning for our past misdeeds  
my brother's conscience now he heeds.

Our mappèd path we now re-chart  
as brother's love pricks 'gain my heart:  
I have failed my siblings five,  
but we can nurture these young lives.  
Adjust the future, change the now  
And let the past its guilt allow.

* * *

**vii. Beauty**

I hold the burning jewel in hand  
that we have chased across the land,  
that we have slain and plotted for:  
I have it now. Yet I want more.

I yearn for beauty long-since passed,  
for gentle love in wild grass,  
for brothers' kindness, quarrels, jokes...  
but all surrounding me is smoke.

I want, desire, hunger, need;  
I beg, conspire, bargain, plead;  
there is naught I can do or say  
to move me from my path today.

On precipice in mountain's fire  
I hold the jewel that made me liar.  
Its shining mocks my life's campaign;  
its glory pales, its light is feigned.

Maitimo, Maedhros, Russandol,  
Nelyafinwë: I lived all.  
I am not my father's son.  
His Oath's fulfilled, yet he's not won.

There is no hope, no beauty here.  
I see the path. I see it clear.  
I hold the gem close to my chest  
and now can claim what once seemed blessed:  
the end of life, the end of pain.  
I fall into eternal flame.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


End file.
